Moments
by spicygurl
Summary: It started with a cough, and I'd acted as if I didn't care; not until we were alone could I ask if he was okay. He'd just smile and say he was fine, just coming down with a cold or something. But I didn't buy it, not for a minute. Slash.
1. Chapter 1

**Warning: Slash.  
Disclaimer: I don't own The Outsiders.**

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**Moments**

It started with a cough.

He'd be laughing, or telling a story when he just broke off into a spasmodic cough. It sounded like it really hurt him, too, but he'd just pause for a minute and then keep talking. He was a greaser, born and raised, and if there's a take-away key for being a grease, it's that you don't show pain. Pain is a sign of weakness, and once you get tagged as weak, it would take an assload of work to get the tag removed.

I'd acted as if I didn't care, not until we were alone could I ask if he was okay.

He'd just smile, the smile that melted girls hearts—no doubt, and say he was fine, just coming down with a cold or something. But I didn't buy it, and I still didn't when he left school early a few days later.

I was looking for him that day, so I could walk him home after-school. We started walking together after his friends ditched him, or "graduated" as he told me. It was the reason I'd started coming to school regularly, anyway, so I could walk home with him, or take him to The Dingo or movies on Fridays.

Anyway, I was looking for him, when I was informed by one of his friends, Mark, I think, that he'd gone home in the middle of the day with his brother, because he'd "looked ill" and their teacher had forced him to go to the nurse. Like literally _forced_ him. Ponyboy was probably the only kid on earth that _didn't_want to miss school. But you know him; he's always so obsessed with school-work and terrified to get left behind in lessons.

Mark must have seen my concern for our friend, because he put his hand on my shoulder telling me that he'd be fine.

"Of course he will be," I answered a bit harshly, "And I ain't worried."

But Mark wasn't an idiot; he knew the score. He pulled out a green folder and a Spanish textbook. "Here, Pony asked me to grab his homework for him before he left. Do you think you could run it down there for me?"

I stared at the books that belonged to Pony before slowly grabbing them, and putting them under my arm. "What exactly do you know, Mark?"

Mark smiled, his golden eyes twinkling with that all-knowing gloss too many people had. "I don't know what you're talking about, Curly."

**xXx**

There was no hiding it, Ponyboy Curtis was sick.

His green eyes seemed dull, with light bags under them, while his cheeks and nose were slapped with a red tint. I wondered vaguely how I hadn't noticed earlier. He was wearing a shirt that was too big for him. Maybe it belonged to his oldest brother, the big, muscly one. But the pants were obviously his.

"Hey, Curly," he sniffled, after he greeted me. "What are you doing here?"

I held up his books, "Mark said you wanted to do your homework while you were sick, but I didn't believe him." I sat down next to him, and he scooted further away from me. _Ouch_, I thought, _that hurt a little._

"You're gonna get sick, too, Curly. Don't sit so close."

I moved closer to him, despite his warning. I don't care if I get so sick I die tomorrow. If I have an excuse to sit this close to him, I'm gonna take it. "Ah, I'll be fine, Ponyboy."

Maybe it was my imagination, and it probably was, but I think he might've been blushing. Then again, there was no way I'd be able to confirm this; he was sick, his cheeks were red all the time. Besides, the odds of him feeling for me the way I feel for him, were so slim they didn't even exist.

He grabbed his Spanish textbook and the worksheet from inside the green folder and began writing his name and the date on the top, right corner. I noticed that his hand-writing was really nice. Kind of girlish, unlike any other greaser I'd ever known.

After a few moments of silence, and he found a stopping point in his homework, he glanced at the clock then back at me. "Do you think you could hang out here for a bit until I finish my work, so you could hand it in?"

He was asking me to stay longer? Of course I would, I'd stay the night if I had to. But a greaser can't sound so eager to agree to something like that, no matter what. Tim had taught me that; he taught me all the rules of being a greaser.

So when I answered it was calm, cool, collected, "If I must, Curtis," then I added a sigh, as if I didn't want to do it, but I would anyway.

He smiled, that amazing, heart-melting smile, "Thanks so much, Curly." Then he looked conflicted for a minute, "But I have to wait for Darry to get home so he can check my math. Do you think you can stay that long? I'm sure he can give you a ride home; it's getting too dark for you to walk all the way to the other side of town."

"Yeah, I can wait," Tim wouldn't be too happy with me for this, but he'd get over it. Especially if he saw his brother drop me off.

So, for the next hour or so I watched him write in a foreign language, solve long division, go over some notes he had for another class—history maybe, as well as go through half a box of tissues.

"So this is why you're so smart," he looked up from his notes, eyes partly amused.

"Yes, studying does that," and then he laughed, it was small, but it was more than I'd heard in a while. "I could help you study if you want."

I denied before he even finished the question, "There's no need to waste your time on a dumb hood like me."

He looked like he was going to say something else, probably to tell me that I'm not dumb or something like that, but someone came in, slamming the door behind them. It was one of his gang, the red-headed one with the side-burns. What was his name?

"Hey, Two-Bit," Pony greeted, I nodded in his direction. Two-Bit, I'll have to remember that.

"What's up, kid," he looked towards me, "Shepard," and I'll admit to no one but myself, that I smiled a bit inside. He'd called me 'Shepard,' just like hoods called my brother 'Shepard.' I know it shouldn't mean as much as it did to me, but it did. I think Two-Bit and I could get along.

That was until he sat next to Ponyboy, on the other side of him, and closer than I was sitting. What really killed me was that Pony hadn't scooted away from him like he had me.

"You're gonna get sick, Two-Bit, don't sit so close," at least he got the same warning I got, but why didn't he move away, too?

"Psh, I don't care. Get me sick, I'll do anything to get out of working."

Pony looked up at him, "Working? Since when do you work?"

Now I just felt out of place. There was obviously some sort of inside joke that I wasn't picking up on because I wasn't in their gang. The thought of joining them briefly passed through my mind, before I erased it. There were two reasons why I couldn't join the Curtis gang, or whatever they called themselves.

For one, I would be turning against my brother, my family, my friends, and I highly doubt they would ever let me live that down. Once in a gang, always in a gang. Those were the rules, I knew this.

And for two, the only people in the Curtis gang were good-looking guys (or pretty boys, which is how Ponyboy and his brother, Sodapop, were often described).They all were attractive in their own ways, whether it was muscle, toughness, or very pretty faces and nice hair. There was no way I could get in with my rough face, and shaggy hair.

The thought was terminated, never to resurface again.

Ponyboy was laughing now, harder than I'd got him to moments ago. This Two-Bit character was really starting to rub me the wrong way. Especially the way his arm was now draped lazily across the Pony's shoulder.

"So what's the Shepard kid doing here?" he glanced at Pony's open books, and took notice on his sprawled notes. "Y'all set up a study date without ol' Two-Bit?"

"You aren't even in school anymore," Pony answered, and finally, he scooted away from under Two-Bit's arm. This was long overdue. "What are you going to do on a study date?"

_Date?_ Maybe he'd just slipped up, maybe he hadn't meant to say it, but he didn't show any signs of wanting to take it back. None at all, and I struggle to keep my smirk to myself. Pony and I—according to him—had been on a date.

**xXx**

There was a major difference between the Curtis brothers. Their personalities differed on many different levels, just as their looks did. Don't get me wrong, they were all very attractive; especially the second oldest, Sodapop, he was a real looker, with bright eyes and a smile that could make anyone do anything. Then there was the oldest, Darry, who had muscles that, without a doubt, reduced girls to mush.

I met Soda first, as he came home earlier than Darry did, and let me tell you, that boy was crazy. He started bouncing off the walls the minute his toes passed the threshold. And I literally mean his toes, he wasn't wearing any shoes. Pony had told me before that his brother didn't like to wear shoes, or pants.

Steve Randle, who I met before under different circumstances, followed Sodapop in, albeit with shoes and less enthusiasm. He was another member of Pony's gang, and I already liked him more than Two-Bit, for when he entered the house, instead of taking a seat next to Pony, he called him a smartass, and hit him over the head. Yeah, I was slightly angered by this, no one should ever hit Pony, but at least I knew that he wouldn't pose any kind of threat to me.

Finally, about an hour and four stacks of flash cards later, Darry returned and made a beeline for the restroom. When he emerged, squeaky clean and spotless, he entered the kitchen and sat down at the table where Pony had placed his math homework, with a sandwich and a cold glass of milk.

"Ponyboy, come show me how you got six for this question," he called a few minutes later.

Pony sighed quietly, then stood and walked into the kitchen. I followed him, deciding it would be better if I stuck with him: the one person I knew in a house I've never been in.

He was sitting next to Darry, who was munching on a sandwich, working out a problem on a blank sheet of paper. He stopped a minute, chewing on the misshapen eraser on his number two pencil.

"Oh, I see what I did. I didn't carry the four…," then he erased the number six on his work sheet and wrote in a ten.

"See? You can't make dumb mistakes like that, Pony. That could be the difference between an 'A' and an 'A-plus'."

"Sorry, Darry," he apologized. I stared at him. Was this seriously how he was talked to on a daily basis? The boy was too smart, too perfect to be talked down to like that. Maybe that was the reason he had little self-confidence. Someone always calling him a girl, or a smartass, or dumb; this all made sense… kind of.

His brother didn't respond, just went on looking through Pony's homework.

"So," Ponyboy started, his green eyes piercing mine. "Do you need to call your brother and tell him where you are, it's getting late."

I shook my head and tilted back in my seat, "Tim won't care," lie. Tim would crack my skull for making him worry for even a second. He really cared for Angela and me, even if he had a funny way of showing it. He cared about us in the sense that we were the only family he had left. Not like the Curtis brothers, who literally were all they had left as far as family went seeing as their parents died. Our parents were alive, but we didn't associate with them. In our eyes, they very well could have been classified as dead.

Pony nodded, so trusting, so naïve and I loved that about him. Almost as much as I loved those perfect green eyes he had.


	2. Chapter 2

**Warning: There's a bit of naughty language at the end in this.  
Author's note: I really appreciate the reviews and favorites/alerts. Thank you all so much for taking an interest in this. I have one request though: If you feel this story needs to be put under the M rating, could you let me know? I've been struggling to figure it out on my own.**

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**Moments**

"Where the hell have you been, Curly? You know those Socs are riled up over those missing hubcaps. They wouldn't hesitate to beat the living shit outa you for even a second."

I sighed quietly. Riled up Socs ain't got nothin' on a riled up Tim Shepard.

"Relax, Tim," I said kicking my shoes off and pushing them under the couch with my heels. "I was at the Curtis house. Darry just dropped me off."

Tim raised an eyebrow, challenging the honesty behind my words. "He did, did he?" I nodded, not really caring if he believed me or not, for I had a great evening with the boy of my dreams, and I was floating high above cloud nine.

"He shoulda come in; I'd of thanked him for keeping an eye on my idiotic, little brother." Then he pounced on me, assaulting my head in what could only be described as the most painful noogie I'd ever received in my life.

Slapping purposely at Tim and yelling endlessly for him to cut it out, only summoned our younger sister, Angela Shepard, the Queen of Sheba.

"Shut the fuck up down here," then she mimicked the way I'd been screaming at Tim moments before. "Y'all may not care how you look in the morning, but I do. I'll tell you this once: shut the hell up, I need my beauty sleep." With one last evil glare, she turned and stomped back to her room.

"Well," I said, "She sure needs a lot more beauty sleep than she's getting."

"Curly!" was the last thing we heard from her that night.

**xXx**

The second time I visited Pony at his house, he was bed-ridden. Two-Bit was sitting on the couch watching TV with the volume hardly on at all.

"Hey, Shepard, don't bug Ponyboy too much today. He ain't doing so hot."

Naturally, my curiosity for detail and my uncontrollable care for Pony's well-being got the best of me. "What's wrong with him?" I asked with as little care in my voice as possible. "Is he okay?"

Two-Bit hesitated for a bit. "Yeah," he finally answered, "He's okay, just running a hell of a fever. He's been getting sick all morning; can't even keep a sip of water down for ten minutes."

I winced.

Well, I came here to see Pony, and I'm gonna see Pony. Silently, I moved to his room where the door was wide open, and the window propped up. The trash bin was settled next to his bed, and around it, used tissues scattered the floor. What was in the bin... well, let's just say it was Pony's partially-digested breakfast...

"Hey, Pony," I whispered, he was curled in a tight ball towards the head of his bed. Up until now, I never truly realized how small he was, and how child-like his frame was. Everyone in Tulsa knew better than to mess with the 'Baby Curtis,' because he had two big, over-protective brothers, and 5 tough, tuff guys to back him up, perhaps his frame was why his they were so protective of him.

With his eyes closed, the younger boy hummed and barley audibly asked, "What?"

"I was just coming to see if you were okay—hey!" I grabbed the nearest tissue box and pulled two out, "You shouldn't sniffle," I put the tissues around his nose and instructed him to blow. He did, with the little energy that he had, and I chucked it in the bin, and then took a seat on the floor in front of him.

"What?" I asked when Pony started chuckling, "What's funny?"

He smiled, and even through his sickness and his dull features, he managed to make my heart beat just a bit faster, "You."

I quirked an eyebrow, attempting to force a blush from coming to my cheeks. "What about me?"

"You're taking care of me," he chuckled again, "I didn't know you cared."

My previous attempts proved to be pointless as I felt my face heat up. Turning away, I mumbled grumpily, "Well, when you say it like _that_, it makes me sound soft."

"I'm sorry, Curly," the light smirk on his face told me that he was quite the opposite of 'sorry.' But before I could call him on it, he began coughing, that yucky cough that had to have been painful. In no way, shape or form did the cough sound similar to the one he had two days ago, no, this one was worse by ten times.

Once it stopped, Pony groaned and rolled on his side so that his whole body was facing me, "I'm sick, Curly."

"Yeah, no shit," it was a huge kick in the gut to see him so weak and helpless. Just then, the door behind me opened, slowly a head of wheat-gold hair peaked inside.

"Hey, Ponyboy," it was his older brother, Soda, he was looking right past me, almost as if he didn't realize I was there. That or he didn't care. He stepped in the room, and only then did I notice the small, brown bag in one hand and a glass of water in the other. "I got the medicine, sorry it took so long."

"Mm," Pony mumbled.

Soda set the water down on the bedside table, and sat on the corner of the bed. If I leaned to the side, I could see the ill boy's eyes, but that was about it. "Do you think you can hold this?" He'd pulled out the bottle of pills, and shook one out into his palm.

"I don't know, Soda," Pony said, but Soda kept pushing him tenderly to at least try because it was the only thing that could make him feel better, faster. And I believed him—what reason did I have not to?—and I pushed Pony to try it, too, until he finally sat up and swallowed the pill with a swig of water.

The air in the room was still, each of us waiting with baited breath for Pony to react to having something in his stomach. All seemed fine and well, and Pony was just about to lay back down when his eyes bulged and he took off out of the room.

Neither Soda nor I were surprised to find him bent over the toilet, spilling what little he had in his gut; we weren't bothered by it in the slightest, more concerned than anything. Soda stepped closer to the boy and placed his hand on his back, rubbing small circles.

And all the while Soda was whispering reassuring things to the sick boy, I could only think to myself one thing: _Curly Shepard, you are one sick fuck._

And I was. For only I, of all people, would find myself aroused by the sight of Pony's ass through his boxers at a time like this. _He's throwing up, for Pete's sake!_

I need help; serious help.

Fortunately, Soda had his back to me, and Pony, who was now seated in between that toilet and the shower, had his eyes closed. This eliminated having to hide my... _issue_, but I still crossed my legs anyway. Trying to hide your lower-half while standing isn't the easiest thing to do.

"Oh, look at you, Pony." Soda's voice brought me back to the situation at hand. "You're a mess!"

He wasn't exaggerating; the front of Pony's shirt wasn't spared at all from the spewing. So, naturally, when Soda began pulling the shirt off, I simply thought he was going to change it. That wasn't exactly how it played out.

"Come on, let's get you in the tub," I think my eyes nearly popped out of my head. And my, er, "happiness" just about popped out of my jeans when Soda started bringing down Pony's boxers.

_Are you mad?_ I thought crazed. I'm pretty sure Soda has selective sight; he only sees me when he wants to. So, when I slipped out of the bathroom, it went totally unnoticed. On my way to the kitchen, I noticed that Two-Bit had left and the TV was turned off. Wondering for a brief moment where he could have gone and why he left without a word, I pulled out one of the chairs and took a seat.

My head banged against the table, bitter words leaked from my mouth demanding my arousal to go away, and the only bright side about the past few minutes was that no one had noticed.


	3. Chapter 3

**You all have been very kind to me, so I decided I'd give an update. Someone very important in my life, an idol almost, has just told me that he fancies my writing style. He's my AP English III teacher and, although the writing I submit to him isn't Outsiders fanfiction, its close. I just thought I'd share with you all what good has happened during my day!**

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**Moments**

Soon Pony was all cleaned up and dressed in clothes that hung loosely off his body. He shuffled lazily to the couch with the support of Sodapop, and as they passed, I wondered if he had any weight on his feet at all. Soda made sure that Pony would be fine on his own for a while, and then zoomed right past me towards the phone.

"Darry?" Soda spoke into the reciever. "Oh, hey there, Mike. Could you get Darry Curtis on the phone please, its an emergency." He leaned against on of the counters, peering out into the living room to check that Pony was okay. I'm not sure how well that worked out considering Pony was lying in a way that only the top of his head was visible.

"Darry," Soda gasped lightly, "Darry, Pony is real sick now. I think he needs to see a doctor." He paused, listening to his older brother. "I can call Steve to take us, or Two-Bit or Dally, any of them will." He listened again. "Okay, I'll call you when we get to the hospital then. Try not to fall off any roofs worrying."

He said 'bye' to his brother, smashed the reciever down and then picked it back up dialing another number. This time when he looked out to check his brother, he noticed me sitting there at the table and nodded at me, "You're still here, Curly? Maybe you can help me lug Pony out to the car." I could tell that his smile wasn't genuine, but I was glad that he was trying to make light of the situation.

He called Steve over and told him that he needed a ride to the hospital, and soon he arrived.

"Where's the kid?" Steve asked insensitively... I think it was insensitively anyway, I can't really tell with him; that's his normal tone. Soda motioned towards Pony, then went over and picked him up with little difficulty. I took notice, once again, of the difference between Pony's two brothers: Soda struggled in the lifting of certain objects, where as Darry handled things without breaking a sweat.

"Are you coming, Curly?" Soda asked over his shoulder when he noticed I was still seated at the table. I wanted to go, really, I did, but my 'problem' from earlier was still there, albeit, half-gone by now.

I felt my cheeks heat up lightly as I nodded and scooted away from the table. It was still sunny outside, the 4'o'clock sun having no mercy in hiding my body's stubbornness. I don't think Soda noticed it, which I was silently greatful for, but when I slid into the front seat, Steve snorted.

"Glory, Shepard," I looked at him, still embarrassed. He motioned towards the backseat where Soda was fastening a sleeping Ponyboy. "Which one do you fancy? Sodapop?" I wasn't entirely sure which I was more shocked at: the fact that Steve seemed un-bothered that one of the Curtis boys turned me on, or that he thought it was Soda I was digging.

I shook my head, gazing at him in a way that begged him to be quiet and leave it alone. But he was Steve Randle, and there was no way he would do that. "Really?"

I shushed him.

He chuckled, "You dig the kid?" Then he said something that didn't particularly make sense. "Better not let Two-Bit find out."

I wanted to ask him what he meant by that; what Two-Bit would do if he found out; why it was important to keep it from him, but Soda was whining in the back, practically kicking Steve's seat and urging him to "drive already!"

**xXx**

The triage nurses took Ponyboy back almost as soon as Soda finished filling out the form, but the nurses only let Soda go with him since he was immediate family. That left Steve and I to sit awkwardly in the waiting room while a mother with their young kids stared at us as though we were trash. Steve didn't seem bothered by it though. He even went so far as attempting to peeve them off by propping his feet on the coffee table and proclaiming loudly that he hated kids with every fiber of his being.

He got bored bugging the lady after she relocated as far away from us as possible, which in all honesty, wasn't far at all, and turned to me again. "Would you look at that, your little buddy decided to give you a break."

He was right, my problem from earlier was pretty much gone at this point, and I was entirely greatful that I managed to get away with only one person catching on. "Shut up..." I mumbled.

"I don't even know how the kid could turn you on when he's as sick as he is. I mean, unless you have a fetish for runny noses and puke."

I ignored him. I had to; he was only trying to piss me off, and I knew that Tim wouldn't be too happy if he found out that I got in a fight with Steve. He was, after all, an ally to our gang, and he was one hell of a fighter, too. "What did you mean when you said that I better not let Two-Bit find out? Is he really protective of him or something."

"Yeah," Steve said after a moment, "You could say that..."

"He doesn't have a thing for Ponyboy, too, does he?" And I don't think he was allowed to tell me that, because he looked away slowly as though he had let too much information slip. "He does, doesn't he?"

Now he was getting a bit angry, "Glory, shut your mouth! You better not tell anyone or I'll murder you personally, Shepard kid or not."

I wanted to die; just kick the bucket and die. If Two-Bit liked Pony too, there was no way I'd ever have a chance with him. Two-Bit's has an in with the gang; he knows them all on a personal level and he knows more about Pony than I do. For all I know, Pony could like him too. I asked Steve.

He snorted again, "I don't know. I doubt that he even knows Two-Bit likes him. The kid's clueless; can't take a hint for shit." The mother across the room glared at Steve then closed her kids' ears. "If you don't spell it out and draw a picture, he won't know anything. I bet he doesn't even know you dig him either... unless you told him."

"No, I didn't," I said, I think Steve already knew.

"Well, if you dig him you better get on it," and that was the last Steve wanted to talk about it.

**xXx**

When the nurse finally called Steve and I back, and we got sent to room 422, we were slightly shocked to see Pony hooked up to a machine. His eyes were closed, I think he was asleep, but he definitely didn't look like he was enjoying it.

Steve must have asked what was wrong with with Pony because Soda began to explain that he had a really bad sinus infection. "The doctor said we were really lucky to get him in when we did because if we waited any longer it could have spread." There was a long pause then, and when I finally looked up at them, they were staring at me.

I scratched my head awkwardly, "Uh... what?"

And it was so amazingly shocking that Soda smiled just then. Smiled! While his brother was laying unconsciously in front of me, hooked up to an IV and a heart monitor, and just barely escaping a painful infection. "Nothing," he mumbled, then he gave Steve a look. Something told me that Steve blabbed, and if Pony wasn't so sick, I would have murdered him; ally or not.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: Thank you all for your continued support for this story. Your reviews, favorites and alerts make me smile a little brighter everyday.**

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**Moments**

I overheard when the doctor informed Soda, and Darry the night before that Pony would be waking up sometime this morning. Eventually, he did and it sent chills down my spine to see those green eyes look up at me. I turned to tell Soda and Steve that he was awake, but they'd left sometime ago. I hadn't even noticed. I turned back to the boy.

"Hey there, how're you feeling?"

"I'm," he started, but then stopped at the sound of how scratchy his voice was. He cleared his throat and started again, "I'm really thirsty."

I had a glass of water and a carton of orange juice sitting on the bed-side table from when Soda had forced me to eat breakfast. Picking up both, I turned and held them out for him to choose one.

He grabbed the water and chugged it so fast I thought he'd end up swalling the glass whole. "Slow down," I smiled. "It's not gonna evaporate if you don't drink it all this second."

He glared at me around the glass and continued to drink until it was empty, save for a few sticky drops. He set it down on the bedside table, and then stared at the orange juice that I still held.

"Do you want it?" I asked, slightly amused.

He nodded, "Please?"

"Mr. Curtis?" Someone said from behind me. I turned around when I saw the nurse step in and moved out of her way. "Nice to see you've woken up," and her smile was sickeningly sweet against her chubby, freckled cheeks.

Pony had enough curtosy to refrain from chugging the juice in front of the nurse and offer a polite, "Hello," to her.

"Oh, how unprofessional of me," she smacked her forehead. "You've no clue who I am! I'm Linda, I'm your nurse's aid for the morning. I'm just going to check your vitals and give you a dose of your medication, is that alright with you?" She smiled again, and I wasn't really sure if she was just being friendly or truly giving him an option here. We both watched as she moved quickly around the room, washing her hands, placing a blood pressure cuff on his arm, jamming a thermometer between his lips, and staring plainly at his hospital-gown clad chest.

"Alright, everything seems to check out just fine," she washed her hands again, then pulled a pill bottle out of her pocket. "I see you've got some juice there. Is it enough to swallow a couple pills or should I run and get you some more?"

Pony shook the container a bit and listened to the slosh of what remained. Unsatisfied with the amount, he looked up at the nurse, "I think I'll need more, please."

"Alright, darling, I'll be right back. Oh," she said as she remembered something. "Do you know if your gaurdian is somewhere in the hospital?"

"He should be," Pony responded.

"They went downstairs, to the cafeteria, I think," I informed. "But they've been gone a long time, I don't know if they're still there anymore."

Now her smile was turned to me, "Thank you, sweetheart. I'll go look for him. I think you're stable enough to go home today, Mr. Curtis! We need to get him to sign you out of here and pick up the prescription for your medicine."

When she left, I heard Ponyboy shudder. "I hate taking pills," he muttered. "I can never swallow them on the first try."

And once again I was reminded of his childlike innocence. I chuckled softly to myself shaking my head at him. "It only takes a second."

"I know it doesn't take long, its just, the thought of swallowing something whole doesn't sit with me. I always think I'm going to choke or something."

"You know, for someone as clumsy as you, that's actually very possible."

Pony gave me a look, "Was that supposed to make me feel better, because it didn't work."

Just when I was getting ready to say something stupid back to him, Linda walked back in with two cartons of orange juice. She passed one to me with a smile and then made her way to the side of Pony's bed.

"Alright, Mr. Curtis—"

"Call me 'Ponyboy', please," Pony interrupted.

"Of course! _Ponyboy_, here's your juice, now if we could get you to sit up properly; wouldn't want you to choke or anything." His groan in response to this comment was nearly inaudible, but I chuckled anyway and he pulled himself up. "Good! Now, you have to take two pills; would you like them one-at-a-time or can you take 'em both at once?"

"One-at-a-time, please," and she handed them both to him to take at his own pace. His own pace took forever, literally. He'd drink a bit of the juice, hold it in his mouth for a bit, and then drink bit more because he accidentally swallowed the first batch. When he was satisfied with the amount of juice in his mouth, he would put the pill in and then swallow it awkwardly. Linda didn't seem to mind at all as that smile on her face never faded once.

"Alright," he said, his cheeks a light shade of pink. "I'm done."

"Good job, Mr. Curt—uh, Ponyboy! Where is it that you said your gaurdian would be?"

Pony looked at me, and automatically I repeated my statement from earlier. "They should still be in the cafeteria."

"Alright, I'm going to go and get the paper-work. Fell free to change out of that gown and into your regular clothes; I'll close the door." And true to her word, the door was shut behind her, leaving a silent and almost awkward atmosphere behind.

"Curly?" Pony asked a minute later.

"Yeah?"

"Can you help me find my clothes? I have no clue where they are."

From my placement in between the guests' chair and Pony bed-side table, I was able to quickly scan the room and spot the bag of clean clothes that Darry sent Soda home to pack the night before. "Here you go," I placed the bag gently on his side. Immediately he began digging through it, pulling out first a clean pair of boxers.

I felt heat rush to my cheeks at the next thought that passed my thought, "I'll step out if you want to get dressed right now."

"Actually, could you give me a hand, Curly? I feel a bit dizzy."

Internally I groaned. I knew he wasn't doing this on purpose; he wasn't trying to make me feel this way towards him, but it would help a tiny bit if he wasn't in a pediatric, open-gown that was already a bit short for him.

"Sure, I can help you out," I answered, slightly tight-lipped. The fact that I managed to help him get dressed and not see anything that I wasn't supposed to surprised me a lot more than it disappointed me, but I guess I couldn't complain.

Soda was the first in the room, followed by Two-Bit and Steve, and finally Darry and the nurse. Two-Bit somehow pushed past me to Pony's bed-side and began talking miles a minute. His jokes not only made Pony chuckle every now and then, but they gave off a low-key message consisting of "I missed you, and I'm so glad that you're better." And, after looking at Pony pointedly, I could see that what Steve told me the other day was entirely correct: Pony gets nothing unless you flat out say what you mean.

"It seems that you've filled everything out correctly, Mr. Curtis, and I trust that you read everything, but just to summarize in case you missed any points: Ponyboy cannot engage in any strenous activities which means no sports or rough play for a minimum of 2 weeks. Do you need a note for school?"

Pony wasn't listening to the nurse, his attention was fully on Two-Bit and Soda, who were both equally excited to see the youngest of their gang feeling better.

Darry answered for him, "He'll need a note for his track couch, please."

"Alright, I'll get the doctor to sign one in a minute. Also, he has antibiotics for his infection that he'll need to take for at least 10 days. I've already given him the dose for today, so when you pick up his prescription, you'll start administering it to him tomorrow. I will mention that it's best that he's in a safe area once he's taken his medicine."

Darry arched a thick eyebrow, "Any reason why?"

"Some of the side affects of these particular antibiotics can be confusion, deleriousness, dizziness, rashes and vomiting. He can become a danger to himself if he gets any of these."

Darry nodded, and she smiled again, "Alright, now that the boring stuff has been taken care of, I'll let you start getting ready to go. I'll go grab your school's note." She did, and when she returned, we all shot up (minus Ponyboy, who was in a wheelchair) ready to leave.

**xXx**

I had to ride back to the Curtis house with Steve and Two-Bit since there wasn't enough room in the Curtis' truck for anyone besides the three brothers. There is no other way to describe the back of Randle's car as anything but uncomfortable. The windows in the back didn't go all the way down, and the way the front seats were positioned didn't allow for much air to flow back from the windows that did open. Needless to say I was drenched in sweat by the time our 10 minutes drive was over. Two-Bit was out of the car immediately and in the house just as fast, but I decided to air out a little bit because _damn, _it was so hot!

Steve took one look at me, "Jeez, kid, you alright?"

"Just dandy!" I spat sarcastically. "I'm just going to stay out here until I stop sweating, you can go in if you want." He did go in, and I followed shortly. Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw when I walked in.

There was Soda, Darry and Steve all standing back gawking at the two boys on the couch. Two-Bit, leaned back in the cushions, almost as though he was trying to escape the boy that was squirming in his lap.

My jaw dropped, much like the others in the room, and no one seemed to notice me enter, pardon a quick glance from Ponyboy upon the slamming of the door.


End file.
